This was supposed to be a small chapter but it got big! As usual, this is how it goes. Not many comments on the previous chapters ya dinguses so I guess there wasn't much to talk about, so hopefully this makes up for it!

I'm also going to be MIA for maybe a week or two. Changing houses, and internet needs to be set up. I will write in my spare time and try and publish on anything I can but please don't be disappointed if I disappear for a while! Hopefully I'll have a lot for you afterwards, if it does end up happening!

ANYWAY, (I never understood how being Vault Chaplain tied into the barter skill - so I'm probably off point entirely but here's my spin on things!)

Sweet Nothin's - Brenda Lee

For a strict lady of the Lord, Miriam always seemed to be plotting several murders. With a shock of ginger curls, the middle-aged woman wore tight lines over her sagging face – irides brushed with a steely grey that pierced a little too close to the heart. She was speaking fast, Pepper's writing looping into unrecognisable cursive that probably wouldn't count as notes by Brotch's standards. The Chaplain was explaining in great detail about how much money they needed in the collection plate after the service, so they could afford the expensive candles from the local general store.

It was the most incredible idea for the young woman, as the concept of sneaky money made her salivate to herself some nights. Since the chapel was a not for profit organisation, they had to support themselves independently - candles were not cheap, considering the block was still running off its original supply crates. Burning the wick to signify the warm heart of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour, was actually a rather expensive task.

And if they were to keep spreading the message of the one true God, they needed to keep it classy.

Miriam was great with her words, and every line read from her pre-written sermon was laced with a convincing undertone that lead people like Stanley Armstrong to palm an extra big donation into the scratched silver plate being passed around. Pepper felt like this was a great skill to have - the ability to run a business to a proper standard with the power of subtle persuasion.

"Are you listening to me?" The pastor suddenly snapped at the girl, who had taken to staring off into space in awe. "The budget is twenty dollars a week! We need to take twenty dollars on a Sunday morning – and this is before they go and buy a big breakfast from Eddie's!"

"I'm sorry." Pepper apologised to the best of her ability, working on stabilising her voice to something level with believable - earning herself a welcome applause in the form of a short smirk. Miriam then beamed at her, leaning her forearms on the back of her solidly braced chair.

"You're getting better at that, anyhow." The woman then straightened her back to fix her tight bun, unravelling the layers of bright whorls only to bind them securely to the back of her head moments later. "But don't forget the eyes."

The girl adjusted herself, squaring her shoulders before filling her gaze with an intense, meaningful apology. "I'm sorry, Miriam." She breathed with ease, sending forward as much empty pain and regret she could spare. "I'm really, really sorry."

The Chaplain barked a laugh, straightening the sharp collar of her long-sleeved shirt. "Don't over do it." Miriam tugged out the chair, settling herself into it before Pepper. The girl peered over at her, pencil poised – waiting for some more genius to leak from the woman's pores. Instead, she sent the girl a pointed look. "Go out and play. You're dismissed."

Pepper felt she was being gypped. "That's it?" She asked blankly.

"Have you got enough notes for your teacher?" The older woman queried, now leaning on the desk with a sturdy elbow. Her cup of coffee had gone cold long ago, after nearly an hour of straight regurgitation – basically branding the information on the young girl's brain with her heated words. Pepper had learnt a great deal that day, finally figuring out how to shut her brain up and take in as much material as she possibly could.

Labelled as 'independent studies', Pepper's foray into being block Chaplain was less than work. Some kids got sent underground to the trash burners, so being able to sit in sweet air-conditioned bliss surrounded by pristine purple silk was actually heaven. In fact, it was the plush stairway to heaven – with the added bonus of being somewhat of an authority figure thrown in to sweeten the deal.

Some days, Pepper's head rang with Brotch's voice – God help us all.

"Well, I guess I do-"

"Then go and enjoy your afternoon." The Chaplain cleared the girl's wavering words with a stern sweep of her hand. Pepper blanched uncomfortably. There was no gauge on the woman – some days she was hot and the other freezing. It was hard to predict what she was thinking, as the thick-skinned woman obviously hid a whole lot more behind those steel doors she called eyes. The Chaplain hailed from 101B – which explained more about her mind-set than anything else.

"Are you sure?"

"It's four thirty," the woman sighed back as she checked her pipboy. "That's finishing time, isn't it?"

"I suppose so." Pepper pulled a dull face and the woman rolled her eyes, returning her gaze to the heavy leather-bound book on her desk. She began to ignore her student, pouring over the information with the tip of a thick fingernail, lining passages with a soft indent into the old paper. "Have a good night, Miriam!"

"Goodbye, Pepper. Sleep well."

She had already packed up her stuff, becoming a professional of the sport – foot out the door of the chapel and palm on the door frame. "It's only four thirty!" She called back, stepping out into the sunlight, almost hearing the grating roll of eyes from her tradesman. The girl laughed to herself.

Pepper was greeted by the fresh outside air, her boots hitting the concrete path that would lead her away from the centre of town. She had plans to stop into the general store on the way back to 101A – it was coming to the end of the month and she was getting a sweet craving. Her father had given her an extra fifty cents that morning, having sensed some form of teenage mood swing looming on the horizon.

Truth was, she hadn't exactly slept well the previous night. It wasn't as if she was a tortured soul - no, she now had heart made of warm jelly that throbbed horridly every time she thought about her dumbass neighbour. Of course the asshole just had to be one of those guys – the kind to only exist in the tasteful pulp fiction stored in the small library beside the tailors. He was a rebel, of course – a front built by the struggling deadbeat inside of him. He had a driving passion that lead her to the rooftop – asking her weird questions about her parents that made no sense… It was if the boy had a curious personality buried under all those layers of shit.

He'd given her one of those stupid grins when she sat down in class that morning – in fact, he had gone out of his way to turn around and show his teeth. At first it felt like a warning, like he was warding her off with that air of dominance that lingered behind him while he strutted through life like a mentally handicapped gorilla. But her glance soon had flicked from his mouth to his eyes; pupils focusing in on his own as he glowed with something wicked. Pepper had no doubt he was going to let all hell run loose now that she had sacrificed her own dignity for the sake of her friends – but she still felt there was more behind it.

At least she had learnt he was all show. He had shown her himself, actually – leading her into his special place that gave her something over his own overbearing self. Pepper Sheridan had successfully infiltrated that bastard's head space by going against the stream – which was her most efficacious anti-plan to date. All she wanted to do was hurt him for being such an inconsiderate pig, but instead she had won herself many hours of evidence against the scumbag, so if he ever really fucked her over she had more than enough ammunition to take him down as well.

And even through all of those backstabbing thoughts, she still thought he was cute. He was aggravating, yes, but his snarky sense of humour fit well with hers. She had spent ten minutes in the shower just thinking about what to say to him when she saw him next, and even when she caught a taste of cigarette smoke from a bystander her heart would squeeze, and then she would feel pretty dumb and beat herself up about it.

There was still a buffer that kept her from falling over the edge. Every time she thought something sweet about the handsome portrait of a man, the child inside of her sent forward a random memory of how cruel he could be. This is why getting closer to him was necessary – because either way there was a chance he was going to be an asshole to her forever. In his moment of misjudgment based on many years of block frustration, he had cut her a copy of the key to his entire being.

"Hey nosebleed!"

He was perfectly on cue today, Pepper unable to find the strength to groan at his superb hearing. It was if he had finely tuned himself to her train of thought – most likely finding it hilarious to watch her cringe when she was caught thinking about him.

Pepper swung around back towards the centre of town, the boy jumping down the back stairs to the barbershop. His boots met the pavement with a dull stomp, making her head recoil at the sound. Butch was pulling a smoke from behind his ear, already towards her on a mission to mess up her day.

"Hey." she welcomed him gawkily, hiking her bag to her hip with her other hand held up in greeting. There was suddenly one hundred pounds of pressure on her self-esteem, the fidgets escaping through her fingertips that twitched around the leather strap across her chest.

Butch met her in a walk, breezing past her with his chin on his shoulder, gazing back and urging her to follow. He was picking bits of hair from under his fingernails when she caught up, sending her a slight grin in the corner of her eye.

"So how's being the resident goodie-goodie-in-training going?" Butch as.

"Depends," she deadpanned back at him, her eyes following the cancer stick from his fingertips to his lips "how's being the block's most fabulous hairdresser going for you?"

"It's a fucking barbershop." He snapped and she grinned. "It says it right there on the damn sign, idiot." Butch grunted, teeth pinching the orange filter as his palms scraped the hair from his shirt. Pepper laughed at him and his shoulders sagged, falling into a casual stroll beside her. "But it's going well. Thank you for asking."

"Oh, no problem." She replied, almost friendly as she nudged him with a stray elbow. "And to be honest, I being the next Chaplain looks like it's going to be a rather cushy job."

The boy snorted, bumping her bag off-balance with a screwed-up fist. "This coming from the girl with the book-bag the size of her head." He retorted. "What do you even do in there? Are you writing the new-new testament?"

"Ah, I just have what I need. My bible, notepad, some pencils… afternoon tea, uh and-" she peeked into the bag to confirm her suspicions "some old candles. Gotta be prepared." Pepper glanced back up at him and frowned. "Don't you take anything to I.S.?"

"Brotch knows I ain't writing shit for him." The smoke bobbed as he spoke, finally catching onto the fact that they were heading towards a building. "He just lets me fix his hair once'a week."

The girl let out an exasperated huff and stopped her journey, mulling over the idea of Butch DeLoria cruising through his studies with no one even caring. Figures.

"I'm gonna stop into the store." She started off without him, surprised when his path followed hers. "You don't have to come with me-"

"Need smokes anyway," he grunted, flicking open his crumbly packet to check for any survivors. He shook the three remaining cigs, stuffing the pack back into his pocket before catching up to her fast pace. They fell back into their comfortable meander towards front steps, Butch stepping back to let the girl go in first.

She pushed through the glass door, greeted by the tinkle of a bell and the indifferent glare of Old Man Meyers. "Good afternoon!" She saluted him with a friendly smile while the man simply nodded. Pepper started towards her task, soon mortified as a stream of cold ran down her spine.

Pepper was going to spend a whole bunch of her pocket-money of sweets, but that was not going to happen while there was a nice-looking boy around. Even if he was flicking through the pawned comic books with nothing but boredom on his face, there was no way in hell that Pepper was going to look like a stress-eater in front of him. He'd probably make a sharp comment about her weight again, which would crumble her inner-self into a fatty mass of body issues.

"What are you getting?" He called to her and she glanced over at him – ashamed and apparently bloated. The rhymes she had grown up to learn had all been massive lies – stick and stones broke your bones, but words still hurt worse in the long run. In fact, she hadn't exactly seen a stick or a stone before, but she had definitely heard some hard words.

"Uh-" she started, raised voice quieted by a quick glance from Meyers. "I was going to get some sweets…" She started uncomfortably and even though he didn't look up, Pepper could see his eyebrows rise in curiosity.

"You sharin'?" He finally turned, leaning the butt of his palm on a shelf as he grinned at her. She was taken aback by the seemingly normal conversation, beaming back at him against her better judgement.

"I guess so," she shrugged "if you want."

"Well, yeah." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, sliding over to her to hang back – putting an immediate burden on her conscience. Now she had to go buy them in front of him? At least they were sharing – that way she could shrug off her sweet tooth as some form of bonding. Well, she could tell herself that anyway. Frozen with an innocent strain of fear, the girl tried to waste time.

"What would you like?"

"Ah-" he paused "I don't really eat that much candy." Butch waved her off, completely done with the conversation as he headed over towards the front counter. "Just fuckin'- I don't care. Get whatever the fuck you want. I'll just have some of yours."

With the backs of one set of knuckles braced on the lip of the counter, Butch greeted Old Man Meyers with a solid fist on the cracked melamine. The man's lip twitched with irritation as Butch grinned, resting both his forearms in an easy slouch on the countertop.

"Oh, okay." Pepper sweetly replied, still obviously sarcastically. "That's cool. I'll just make all the hard decisions."

"Busy day?" Butch was shifting his boots over the linoleum – feet bopping to a rhythm of comfort. He had lost interest in Pepper's intentions long ago, completely unaware of the long-term effect of his boyish teasing. Old Man Meyers blinked, sucking the sheen of spit from his two front teeth.

"Stevie Mack bought two boxes of tissues this morning."

"Really?" Butch questioned slowly, looking sincerely interested. Meyers was half-bent, pulling a pack from underneath the counter. The orange box had already been opened, stuffed with a random assortment of stray cigarettes – the ancient tobacco staining the cardboard with a faint taste. "Anything else?"

Pepper was behind her boy now, squinting around him to anxiously make the most daunting decision of her life. "An Armstrong girl bought a pack of bobby pins. Can't remember which one. They all look the same."

"Huh." Butch replied, sliding his new packet towards his chest before slipping them in his pocket. "It's been eventful then?"

Meyers grinned, eyeing the young lad's girl friend over his shoulder. Butch noticed the line of sight, turning slightly to find his companion in mortal peril, unable to concentrate on two tasks at once. On one hand, the conversation the snake seemed to be having with the old man was strange. Butch wasn't interested in anything that boring. But on the other, she had a tough choice to make.

It was a tie between synthetic chocolate and the clumped hard candy. If being an adult meant things were harder than what she was experiencing in that point in time, Pepper was starting to worry about the years to come. "You right, nosebleed?" He prodded her with the toe of his boot. She peeked up at him, frowning lightly.

"Yeah, yeah." She stretched the full height, daring to make eye contact with the older man. "Can I get a seventy-five cents worth of the hard candy, please?"

"Please." Butch mocked her and she grunted, shoving him gently while the man behind the counter rustled around for his dusty paper bags. "You're such a loser some days, I swear."

"Only some days." Handling the light play with a view of her back, the girl paid for her sweets in quarters. "And being polite does not make you uncool, Butch." She said quite matter-of-factly. He snorted in response.

"It really fucking does when you say it like that."

"Whatever." The girl threw a palm over her shoulder, urging him to be quiet. "Thank you!" Rolling the bag of sweets into a firm cylinder, she shoved them into her book bag. Looking up, she saw the old man's mouth yanked into an amused smile. "Have a nice afternoon!"

"Yeah," Butch called back with a pleasant wave, following his girl friend towards the door before jerking it open – the bell dinging with fury as he ushered Pepper through first. His voice lowered with a genuine ring. "Thanks, old man."

"Dad?"

James needed a seven-letter word for 'juice'. Would it have been considered cheating if he searched through the dictionary on his pipboy? His moral compass pointed to YES, and his pencil fell dead on the paper. Cheaters never prospered.

"Yes, sweetheart?" The man was soothing his eye sockets with the knuckle of his thumbs, his fingers soon slipping down his face to scratch through his dressy-casual beard. "What's on your mind?"

"What was mom like?"

Her father started on the same old story he always told her when the subject arose. "Strong, proud, beautiful, intelligent…" The thought of his wife often bought a breeze of the blues, ridden by a great discomfort that came with unfinished business. "Everything a great person desires to be." It should have been the last thing on his mind in their paramount paradise, but he was getting bored.

He was doing crosswords, for Christ's sake! Crosswords that had already been filled out a hundred times before – layered with so much whiteout that it weighed as much as a dollar of coin! His little girl would be leaving him soon to jump headfirst into an extinct religion, and he would have nothing better to do than potter around getting old and grey. Many people would have killed for his place, but James felt a sting of yearning for a simpler life.

"I know that - you've said it a thousand times before." His daughter snuffed at him, folding her arms as if it gave her some form of authority. "It doesn't give me anything to go by at all…" her voice died in annoyance. "As in, who was she friends with and what perfume did she buy from the store? How many dates at the diner until she let you kiss her? That sort of thing. I never hear about her."

"Pepper-" He started, unable to fathom the amount of lies he would have to pull from his ass to save his entire livelihood. The young lady had always been content with his four words of wisdom, never had she pressed forward – but in saying that, she had already begun her path to independence long ago. "Your mother was a lot like you." He hid his mouth in his coffee, stalling for time as he ran through thousands of stories and their obvious consequences.

It took the girl a while to respond. "Mom was a loser?" She breathed, her father spluttering into his mug.

"You're not a loser, sweetheart." He assured her, cleaning his spill with the tea towel that had been abandoned after Pepper had finished washing up. "Your mother was headstrong but was always polite in how she went about it." He grinned at the thought, having forgotten about the memory long ago. "She didn't let me kiss her until I was twenty-five."

"Twenty-five!" Pepper leant back in her chair.

"We had bigger things on our mind at the time." His words slowed, exhaling suddenly at the guilt that came with it. "But she didn't wear perfume. She didn't need it. She always smelt lovely, no matter where we were."

His words made Pepper feel a little better. At least her mother was real – not just the quiet eyes of the woman in the photo placed beside her bed. Still, Pepper wished she could have heard her voice just once. "Do you think she'd like me?"

"Of course she would, Pepper." Her father's eyes softened, a caring smile tugging at his lips. His gaze was so full of fatherly love that it made the girl a little sick. "Your mother loved you very much. From the moment we found out we were going to be a family, she always wanted the very best for you."

"Who was she friends with?" His daughter continued. "What was her style?"

James blinked. "Arlette Almodovar, for one." He watched her face light up like a child on Christmas day and suddenly felt very, very guilty. "And she always wore… pants…"

"Really?" Pepper brightened. "That's kind of cool, hey? Like mother like daughter." Her father's forced smile went unnoticed, the man quickly back to hiding in his coffee. "So, you must have had to hang out with the Block Captain a lot then, huh..? Did you go to his wedding?"

Dad checked his pipboy with a raised wrist in the corner of his eye, still cowering behind his beverage. "Isn't it bed time?" He asked dryly.

Pepper let out an exaggerated groan. "I'm eighteen, dad! Why do I need a bedtime?"

"Because you're still in school." He shot back at her smartly and she shut up, lips creasing into a thin line. "And your brain is still growing – it needs its rest."

"Oh my god," she pushed out of her chair and slumped away full of heavy extravagance, hands squealing on the painted walls as she pulled herself off towards her bedroom, "I don't want to go to school tomorrow!" She whined.

"You have to go to school, Pepper!" He called back, smiling to himself at a game well-played. "Goodnight, sweetheart!"

An overstressed groan floated down the hallway and James began to gather his belongings. He couldn't help but feel like there was an itch in his brain, like a bug had wheedled its way through the fleshy crevices of his head. He had so much unfinished business; stacks upon stacks of research he had vomited onto paper so he would never forget the greatest idea he had ever fathomed. It had been Catherine's dream as well, and well, James didn't feel like he was getting any younger.

"I'm going to head to the clinic for a while, sweetheart." He soon followed up his earlier goodbyes, tipping the rest of his cup down the sink. There was a soft pause before her reply.

"Alright." Her voice had a strange waver, but he missed it completely as it slipped under the radar that had been scrambled by foreign thoughts. "Goodnight dad."

"Sleep well!" He called to her after he had packed up his things, heading towards the front door. Pepper leant out of the doorway as he floated past, claiming her kiss on the forehead for an extra-safe sleep. She watched him disappear into the main lobby, the door slipping into its dock as the bolt clicked into place.

Pepper licked her lips and sighed. "It's only nine thirty."

Five minutes later she was half way up the fire escape, a congealed lump of hard candy grasped in her least sweaty hand as she climbed the beanstalk to her treasure. Her footsteps were quiet, perfected – too on task to be able to have been caught by any of the occupants inside. It was like they were oblivious to what actually was going on around them, still watching the same twenty television shows that played on loop through the block's cable system.

She reached the flat grate of the top in no time, spare hand grasping the rickety rail as her eyes raked the top of the roof for the boy. There he was, sitting in the far-right corner on a milk crate, the balls of his feet poised on the concrete while his ankle twitched in thought. Her soft footsteps behind him gave him reason to turn his head, glancing over his shoulder to follow her moves until she crouched beside him.

"Hey," she whispered, thankful for the darkness and the comfort it bought, "I brought the candy."

"How sweet of you." He grinned back, holding out his hand to take the goods. She ignored him, resting a knee on the ground while she pushed the hair free from the sting in her blues, cursing the day she let Freddie Gomez man a Bunsen burner. As if her hair needed another impediment - now it was all friendly stabs in the eye when she wasn't prepared. "Just saw your pa leave. Where's he goin'?"

"To his office." She replied, falling back to sit down beside him, stretching out her legs to line her eyesight with the tips of her boots. She gently kneaded the rawness with the back of her forefinger, eyes watering like she had been caught in a bad romantic comedy. "Probably got some late night inspiration for a medical paper or something. I don't know. Dad stuff."

"Yeah, sure. 'Dad stuff'." Butch snorted, looking down on her with his know-it-all smirk until her faced creased with a frown. "Well," he started, their eyes snared together in the same trap "hand it over."

"What?" She shot him a look of confusion, glancing down at the package in her hands before shrugging with a short laugh. "Oh yeah - of course." Palming him the paper bag, she got comfortable beside him – crossing her legs as the flats of her hands found leverage behind her.

The stars blinked in metronome above them, twinkling in a randomised sync that flickered every so often. Ever since she was a child, Pepper had always found the night sky to be rather bland. It was if there was nothing behind it all.

Butch let out a noise. "Fuck, these'd do a number on your teeth." He held the bag out in front of his eye line, shooting her a look from the corner of his eye. "How do you eat these all the time, nosebleed?"

"I don't know…" Pepper scoffed. "Maybe because they're really good?"

"Well shit." He dug his hand into the bag, crunching around with his grubby fingers that probably touched every piece. "Haven't had these in years."

"Mm, they're really nice." She held up a stiff palm, receiving a bountiful one piece in return for her sweet agreement. Pepper sniffed with amusement as she held it in front of her, not at all pleased with her gift but delighted all the same that he was actually sharing. Butch DeLoria was sharing with her. "Thank you."

He grunted in response, eying the blue and yellow boiled candy before spooning them into his mouth with a cupped hand. "Really though? No sweets ever?" Asked Pepper, rather surprised. "How can you not—I mean, it's good for you. It makes you happy."

"I ain't got the money for fuckin' candy." He laughed at her, sincerely entertained by her explanation. Her brow cocked with suspicious good intent. "And no, the Tunnel Snakes don't go stealin' it from babies, if that's what you're getting at." His lips twitched with annoyance, which made her grin wide. "Who do you think we are? Low-lives?"

"You haven't got the money?" She blanked at him, hilarity ringing in her voice as she ignored his irritated claim. "But you can buy a pack of smokes how many times a week?" She started to calculate the math in her head, missing an important part of the sum when she realised he hadn't actually paid for them. There was no monetary exchange for those cigarettes and he was thumbing the packet right in front of her in that very moment.

Her sweet Chaplain eyes widened up at him and he frowned momentarily, his bonce trying to figure out her sudden change of pace. When he came to her conclusion, he positively beamed at her in a way that made her uncomfortable.

"I didn't steal 'em. You think I would actually try to steal from Old Meyers?" He sniggered, waving his digits at her. "I value my fingers, thank you…" He paused, watching her eyes scan his in attempt to find the answer before he made fun of her for not knowing. "Do you think I'm stupid or something?"

"Some days I do." She answered blandly and he rolled his eyes, one corner of his mouth tightening in thought. "Then why is he giving you free cigarettes? What, does he like you or something? Like, as a person?"

He snuffed back at her, rolling the lollies in his mouth. "Dunno. Probably sweet on ma or somethin' else that weird." The snake scoffed at the thought, stretching out his legs to lean an elbow on his thigh. "I ain't complainin' though. Free shit."

"That's pretty weird, Butch." Pepper told him. "He could get in a real load of trouble for that. Playing favourites with the residents and all..."

"Oh well," the man shrugged, "his choice, I guess."

They sat in silence for a bit, Pepper dwelling over the new information while Butch looked blandly up at the roof, counting the different patterns of flashbulbs that lit up around the dome above them. He was particularly sour that afternoon, as his mother had eaten the last of the bread before he had come home from I.S. One would think it was nothing to be that torn-up about, but considering the bakery shut at four o'clock, there was now nothing left to eat.

At least the girl had brought something with her – even though she had basically been bullied into it in the first place. The boy figured she would have brought it with her regardless, considering she was nice like that. Pepper kept things fresher - that was for sure.

"Oh, I've never noticed that!" She chimed in, causing him to turn his neck to stare down at her curiously. "The stars, they blink in patterns."

"Yeah." He spat dully, rolling his eyes. "It's like we're in a big fucking diner."

"With a diner inside." She replied. "That's genius."

He chortled at that, turning his sight back to the roof. "They didn't even try to make it look real…" Complaining about mediocre sanctuaries was Butch's game. "They call this an oasis, but I don't think they're supposed to fuckin' look like this."

"Yeah, they teach us astronomy but they give us pre-war neon." Her words were soft with thought. "That's… That's kind of dumb. Is it a joke?"

"Probably. Kitschy bullshit."

"So it probably wouldn't look like this outside the block, then?" Her mind chugged on with deduction after deduction, a thousand new ideas forming in her head. "Things would be completely different… Like they'd look in the textbooks..." She craned her neck to check for the murals along the blocks walls, unable to get a good look. Pulling herself to the edge, she stuck her head out into the open to squint for the tall, wispy paintings. "Trees. There'd be trees out there."

"Yeah," he nodded. "And stars."

"Stars." Pepper breathed. "Right… But, how do we know if that's actually out there? It was a big fucking war."

"There's a city out there! Mega-something. We learnt it about!"

"Since when do you listen in class?" She snapped at him softly and he scoffed back. "I dunno… Seems a little extreme to think that there'd be trees and things out there. It's probably all rubble and dust."

"Maybe." He agreed, his voice pitching with suggestion. "Maybe not. But how do know there's a town out there anyway?"

"Uh… Security cameras?" She crawled back to her place, settling down beside him to lean her side on the crate.

"Right. And they can see that far? Our televisions only have three channels… You seriously think this shit-can has that kind of technology? To fucking pinpoint an atomic bomb?"

"You honestly think too much." She gurgled up at him. "Is this why you're angry all the time? Your poor brain must be crying!"

"It's just fucking weird, man. Think about it." He let out a breath of air that was soaked with annoyance. "They know all this shit about the outside, but no one's ever been out… They must think we're fuckin' dumb!"

"I don't think it's that, Butch, I—I don't know. That's a big idea you've got there." The girl attempted to calm him with a gentle voice, but it just made him cringe. "Why would they lie to us like that?"

"I don't know! Uh, maybe to keep us in the block so we can fill it up with another generation so their tacky nightmare never fuckin' dies?" He turned his body to nudge his knee against her chest, making the girl lean backwards. She scooted back to keep the distance safe. "It's not a crazy concept… You know, maybe things aren't like this out there. Sure, things may be bad out there, but I'm sure it's better than being in here."

"Right. An atomic war ruins the planet and we get locked in a special chamber to keep us safe, and you want to leave?"

He let out a sniggered sigh, giving her a lazy look. "I'm bored."

"Bored!" She grinned at how stupid he sounded. "You jump into the void because you're bored? You are fucking off your rocker, you know that, right? You are loony."

"Fuck you." He told her, not all that serious. "This block is loony, that's what. We are living in a giant room. Books 'n' shit always talk about big oceans and fuckin' fields and space and stuff – so they have to still exist! We can't be the last remaining things on the planet."

Pepper couldn't take in the information fast enough. He was spinning notion after notion and it was all a bit surprising considering whose mouth the words belonged to. He was technically considered an idiot, but he the things he was saying seemed to make sense. There was no way she was going to back up the theory by asking her father or Miriam either, but it was something new to dwell on.

"Maybe… Maybe leaving would compromise the block? Contaminate the air?"

"Well if we're going on the idea that they've opened it before, then I don't think so. I think we'd all be dead."

"Ah…" She froze. "A few of us did. Like, my mother or Amata's or… your dad?"

"Pa got flattened by trash." Butch answered drearily. "That's not the work of contamination."

Pepper suddenly realised how fucked up his existence was – living above the churning crush of garbage that groaned the same way every single operation. She soon felt miserable for him. "Right." She agreed. "Sorry…"

"Nah, don't worry." He shrugged, squeezing his eyes shut in thought for a second before relaxing with a huff. "But you get what I'm sayin' right?" He nudged her with the tip of his boot, giving her an excuse to chew her top lip.

"I guess so. Gives me something to think about."

He smiled at her cheekily before glancing across the grass towards the north wall. "Reckon your pa knows anything about it?"

"I'm not gonna ask him for you." She grinned back. "He'd commit me." The thought of her father set in a coat of paranoia, tensing up the muscles in her arms. "Speaking of, I should probably get back before he comes home."

"It's early," Butch started to bargain; silently hoping he hadn't overwhelmed her with his crazy ideas. The girl smiled brilliantly at him.

"Nah, I've got to get up early and set up for chapel anyway." She breathed, stretching out before crawling to a stand. He stood with her, pulling up the back of his jeans before shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "If I look tired the Chaplain will kill me. I have to set a good example."

"That ain't gonna work if you're hanging around me."

She scoffed at his high opinion of himself. He probably thought himself a rebel – that must have been why he set himself into the stereotype so hard. It was almost embarrassing in that funny kind of way. "I can just tell them I'm saving you from a life of sin."

"That might actually work," he ushered her towards the stairs, ready to escort her back to her apartment. "You should use that."

"I will, don't worry." She assured him, starting onto the concrete steps to the fire escape. He pushed the candy into her back when she turned, waving it at her when he caught her attention. "No, you have some tonight. Bring it to me tomorrow or something. Have some candy, you sad boy."

"Fuck, you're creepy." He sneered at her with an obvious air of amusement, holding the package out for a few more seconds of offering before tucking it into his pocket. She shrugged indifferently, starting down the first step. He watched the smooth of her shoulder blades catch the shadows from the artificial moon as she guided herself down with the rail.

He stopped her with a small cough, ceasing her movement as she turned to face him. "Thanks." Her confused look made him sigh in annoyance. "For the sweets."

She groaned at him, lighting his eyes up with a jovial sheen. "Stop being nice to me, you weirdo." She turned back and began her quest to her bedroom, smiling to herself all the same as she basically floated back to bed. "It's alright, honestly."

He followed her with confidence.